Little Moments
by redcandle
Summary: Catelyn endures a little moment between Ned and Jon, and enjoys other moments with Ned, Robb, and Sansa.


Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and elements from A Song of Ice and Fire belong to George R. R. Martin. No copyright infringement is intended.

Hair. Eyes. Jaw. They were simple things but they mattered so much. She knew she should turn away and spare herself the heartache, but Catelyn watched her husband with his bastard son. They had the same thin, dark hair and the same grey eyes. Even their faces were shaped the same, though most of Ned's was obscured by his beard. Any stranger who saw them together would immediately know them for father and son.

_He does not have the name, but if ever it came to that he might not need it; he has the look._ It was a hard burden to bear, seeing her husband's bastard at her table every day, but Catelyn thought it might have been more bearable if the boy had looked like his mother. Instead he looked like his father in miniature, undeniably a Stark. Her son - the trueborn son and heir she'd borne Ned within nine months of their wedding - did not look like a Stark. Robb looked like her, like a Tully. In her darker moments Catelyn felt that unknown other woman had beaten her.

"Mother, you aren't looking."

Catelyn looked at Robb, freshly encased in an armor of soft padding. "I am, my sweet. You look like a proper knight."

"Like Florian," little Sansa chimed.

Robb's face wrinkled, clearly unhappy at being told he looked like a fool even if said fool was also a legendary knight. "Are you sure I don't look more like Aemon the Dragonknight?"

Sansa studied him seriously. "A little."

"Jon," Robb called. "I'm Prince Aemon!"

"I'm Symeon Star-Eyes," Jon Snow shouted back. He ran to Ser Rodrik to be fitted into his padded suit.

Ned came to stand beside his family. He petted Sansa's head of auburn hair. "Now don't be afraid. Your brothers will not truly be fighting."

"Maybe Theon would be Florian if he wasn't sick," Sansa mused. "Will you be Florian, Father?"

Robb answered before Ned could. "Theon wouldn't be Florian; he'd be some Ironborn hero."

There were no Ironborn heroes as far as Catelyn knew. The Ironborn were a vicious lot of killers, rapers, and pillagers. They even prided themselves on it. Theon Greyjoy was a hostage to dissuade his lord father from raising another rebellion, but Ned would never kill a child so he was safe no matter what. The real value would be in whatever honor Ned managed to instill in the future lord of Pyke.

"And Father doesn't need to be somebody else," Robb continued. "He killed Arthur Dayne!"

"Only just, and I would not have if Howland Reed had not aided me."

Any other father would have basked at being a hero in his son's eyes and would not have found need to explain that it was not the whole story. It was peculiar that Ned did, and so very much like him. Catelyn loved him for it. She was not sure their son had heard him though. Robb dashed off to join Jon Snow in receiving last minute instruction from the master-at-arms.

Sansa, however, was very interested. "Was Arthur Dayne a giant or some other kind of monster, or a wicked man like evil Ser Morgil?"

"He was a man and he was not wicked at all. He was the greatest knight in the Seven Kingdoms."

Sansa was horrified. "You killed a _good_ knight?"

Ned began to explain about duty, but Catelyn interrupted him. "If your father had not prevailed, Ser Arthur would have slain him and you would not be here, Sansa."

"So he _was_ wicked."

"He served an evil king," Catelyn told her.

The boys were ready. At Ser Rodrik's signal they began to spar with their small wooden swords. The swords were heavier than toy swords, but their edges were thick and blunt to minimize injury. Robb and Jon Snow were evenly matched; both clumsy and both wildly eager.

"You are not at play," Ser Rodrik reminded them loudly. "Attack and block the way I've taught you, not anyhow you please."

The sparring session lasted a few minutes longer and then the boys were being helped out of their protective padding, dripping sweat and grinning proudly. They sprinted towards Ned, each insisting he had won. "You did very well, Robb," Catelyn told her son.

"You both made a fine start," Ned said. "But you must heed Ser Rodrik and do as he tells you. You are men preparing for battle, not boys playing."

The mild rebuke did not dampen their spirits. Barely seven, they puffed up at being called men. "I'll heed Ser Rodrik," Jon Snow promised. "And when there's war, I'll be ready and I'll kill hundreds of men."

"I'll kill thousands," Robb said.

Catelyn knew what Ned would say. He fought when he had to, but he dreaded war and did not look for glory from it. He wanted his sons to be prepared; not eager. It was futile trying to impart that lesson to boys their age though. "Maester Luwin will be expecting you," she said. She kissed Robb's forehead and gave him a gentle push. "Go to him."

He and Jon Snow reluctantly began trudging towards the maester's tower. Maester Luwin's lessons were much less appreciated than Ser Rodrik's. Sansa started to follow them. Catelyn scooped her up. "_Your_ lessons are later," she said. Sansa was learning to read and she liked her lessons more than her brothers liked theirs, perhaps because Maester Luwin used her favorite tales.

Ned still looked pensive. "When they become a little older, they will understand what war really is," she told him.

"Yes," Ned acknowledged. "But I'll take them with me the next time I do justice. They should understand what it means to kill a man."

She wanted to object. Robb was still so young. But Catelyn knew it was better he learned what he needed to know in life sooner rather than later. "If you think that's best," she agreed.

Ned reached for Sansa and Catelyn gave her over to him. They slowly walked towards the Great Keep. "Arya refuses my breast more often than not these days. She'll be weaned soon."

"She isn't a babe anymore." Ned's smile was sad, as though it pained him to think his daughter was growing older.

"Perhaps we'll have another babe next year or maybe even this year."

His smile became more joyous. "I'd like that, Cat."

He loved her. She knew he did. It was unworthy and unfair to wonder if he loved Jon Snow's mother more. He shifted Sansa to his other side, and Catelyn linked her arm with his, enjoying the moment.


End file.
